The Making of a Shinigami
by maytoaugust
Summary: The life of Zaraki Kenpachi before becoming a Shinigami.
1. Earth

The Making of a Shinigami

Hi there! I bet you opened this up because you're as big a fan of Ken-chan as I am! Right? Well unfortunately Ken-chan and Bleach belong to Mr. Tite Kubo, and not me... sigh. And Shinigami don't belong to anyone (except maybe Ryuk). Anyways, hope you enjoy my first child- err, fanfic.

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There was blood. Lots of blood. Too much blood. A small flash of pink wound its way into the scarlet pools- and then he blinked

He was a boy of about seventeen, on the borderline of manhood. He is known today as Kenpachi, but in truth, he had never been named. He was orphaned at a very young age. Unwanted and never given a home, he drifted aimlessly and cynically throughout the years. Lately he had been having obscure, violent dreams. However, he reflected little on them. He lived his life on whims and never had time to analyze every little thing. But this dream, or rather nightmare, loomed ominously over him like a thundercloud.

He blinked again. He had merely drifted off into an afternoon nap in the most peaceful, flowering field. Juxtaposing against the quiet horizon, the malicious dream ruined the landscape. The boy left, though he felt a sense of return tugging him toward it again, he pushed onward towards his night job.

Loud music. Clanging glasses. The boy did not enjoy these parties, but he did what he had to for money.

"Yo! No-name waiter! Bring us some more booze, hahaha!" shouted a nearly incapacitated young man. This man always caused a ruckus every night at the bar, and was most disliked by the boy. Yet it was the boy's job, so he delivered another round to the table, albeit rather stoicly.

"Here are your drinks," muttered the boy sourly.

The foolish man, in his drunken stupor, turned to look at the nameless waiter. He paused so long it seemed like he was trying to solve Einstein's riddle, but finally sloshed, "You need to cheer-up man!" and made a mocking face of the boys dour features. Proceeding to pinch the boys cheek to force him to smile, the man's drink spilled all over the waiters white shirt. The drunk's hand was slapped away, and the boy him out front, with a gleam in his eye.

"Remember, you asked for this!" and the drunken fool took a slug right in the face. The drunk immediately passed out, from either intoxication, or pain, or both.

_Ugh, that's the problem with drunks. No matter what you do, they pass out, or won't remember the next day. They don't put up any good fights._

The boy sighed and tossed the unconcious man onto the street, only to jump at the sound of a scream coming from out in the field. His napping field. The tug of fate urged him toward it. The sound of gunshots caused his to start running towards the field, looking for a fight.

The boy slowed down as he approached the field. On the outskirts of the flowers, there was a woman lying in the grass, unnaturally still. He couldn't see what was going on in the middle of the field at first, so he went to check out the woman. He leaned down to check her pulse, but she was obviously dead when he first glimpsed the lady's face. It looked as if her soul had been drained out of her. The boy's blood started to boil when he could make out a ruckus in the center of the field, his muscles ached to fight, to avenge this unknown woman's death.

As he approached the group, shrouded in dusk, he could make out what looked like a gang, and the blur of an odd creature watching over them.

"What the hell's goin' on here!?" he shouted, and the men, startled, turned to give him a malevolent glare. This malevolence and the dark of night destroyed the peaceful field, and for a second, it looked to be a cursed wasteland.

But the image only lasted for a second, as pain blossomed into the back of the boys head. The last thing he saw was the men surrounding a frightened pink-haired girl splattered in blood. Too much blood.

The monster looming over the group of men cackled as the stupid-looking boy fell to his knees. How ironic, thought the beast, that this boy and girl should breathe their last breath at the same moment.

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_AN: I know, I know it's not the greatest. I hope I did Kenpachi somewhat amounts of justice. Sorry if it got confusing without him having a name, but he should have one soon. I would appreciate all reviews and constructive criticism I could get, being this is my first fanfic ever :X Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! :D Chapter 2 coming soon to a fanfic site near you! :)_


	2. Soul Society

Chapter 2

Firstly, my deepest apologies! This chapter took so long to come out because it was FCAT and SAT (there are some big vocab words in here from that, but not too many) and a test in almost every single class week for me!!! The next chapter should come out much more quickly than this one! :)

Secondly, thank you for stopping by on my second chapter :) Whoever you may be, you are now all my favorites! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

And, thirdly: Kenpachi does not belong to me, nor Bleach. They belong to the amazing, wonderful, etc... Mr. Tite Kubo.

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The boy stirred. Moaning, he sat up, though he was slow to open his eyes. The sun glared harshly down on him, and it seemed much closer than usual. Then his senses struck him, along with a throbbing pain in the back of his head. His eyes flew open as he remembered the young, blood-spattered girl. Bewildered, he glanced by make-shift shacks.

Curious eyes attempted to inconspicuously stare at him from the windows of the shacks- with very little efficacy. The boy glared at those within his sight-range, and they shied away, seemingly pushed by some malignant force.

Eager to leave the prying eyes, the boy stood up, and heard a subtle clinking on his hip. He looked down to find a sword at his waist.

_How strange, it doesn't even feel as if I have any extra weight on me. Wait, where'd this even come from? Well, it might come in handy, wherever I may be._

The nameless boy drew his unnamed blade. It gleamed in the sunlight, ready for a fight. And a fight it brought.

"Humph. So you got one, too?" asked a man, suddenly appearing from around the corner, fingering a similar sword. He was a short man with yellowed hair and a nasty look on his face, "So, who are you exactly?"

"Who are you? Is it not custom to give one's own name first?" retorted the boy, not taking to kindly to the uncouth man.

"Well it depends on where your from. Nonetheless, my name is Jiro. I've been in the Soul Society for almost three months now," said the man snidely.

"Soul Society? And that is what now?" asked the boy obstinately. He really did not like this Jiro; and his fingers were itching to use his sword on the irritating man.

"Pffft! How ignorant! You must be a wittle baby soul!" mocked the man provokingly, "It's where all the dead people wait to either be let into the Seireitei for outstanding spiritual power, or be reincarnated to balance out the flow of souls! You'd better hurry and get a number! Haha! Oh, so now, what is your name, boy?"

Jiro finally looked up from his boasting to see the boy was seething. With a look of contempt, the boy gritted his teeth and mumbled, "I don't have one."

Skeptically, Jiro replied, "Hmmph. No matter where you may be from, you must have a name! I suppose I'll have to force it out of you!" At this Jiro unsheathed his sword and charged toward the boy.

As Jiro thrust his sword at him, the boy's arm reacted instinctively and easily parried the blow. Unknowingly enveloped in spiritual power, the boy's skill was unmatched by Jiro's. As Jiro realized his mistake, he became mortified, and with mortification comes loss of focus, and then death.

Soon the boy was inside Jiro's defense. While the boy had nary a scratch, Jiro's legs and arms were covered in slashes and deep gashes. In the fervor of the moment, and pulsing with adrenaline, the boy made a final lunge and stabbed Jiro straight in the heart.

Jiro's face froze as he fell, coughing blood. The blood continued leaking from his chest for a good part of _post mortum_. Then the boy realized what he had done.

"Oh. Ummm... Crap."

Mad cackling erupted from the roof of one of the shacks. The boy looked upwards guardedly, towards the source of the laughter. Another man with a sword and a strange face grinned down at him like the Chesire Cat.

"Oh, don't mind me!" smiled the man, "And don't mind about killing that foolish fellow either! He was dead to start with! We all are! Haha!"

Resolutely, the boy pushed the fight to the back of his mind, it had been enlightening, but not worthwhile. He moved on to more pressing matters, "So, I'm really... dead?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Bingo! Welcome to the Soul Society, boy! More specifically, Area 80 North Alley of Loitering Souls, aka Zaraki! My name is Kurotshuchi Mayuri, my nameless friend."

Taken aback by the odd man, the boy was speechless and perplexed at his situation. All he could do when Mayuri asked him to "come with him" was to nod mutely and follow.

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_AN: TADA! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!! Thank you :) If you would like manga references to the small portion of Kenpachi's past that was revealed, it was Chapter 114, Volume 13. Oh and, if there are any anime details about his past that contradict this fanfic- it's because this is solely manga-based plus my own creativity. Once again, thanks for coming by and reading! Chapter 3 should come within the week :)_


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